Sharing Space (The Complete Series) (23 page)

“How do I make you feel exactly?”

She was smiling and brushing my hair back from my forehead. I couldn’t smile, mostly because it hurt to, but also because I wanted her to know I was dead serious when I answered. “You make me feel better than anyone ever has.”

“Well, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” she said.  

“Uh, oh.” I smiled and immediately regretted it.  “Ouch.”

“Here, let Mama make it better.”

Then she gently kissed every inch of my lips. And it felt better.

Chapter One

Grateful, Part 1

Chloe

Lila’s new assistant was driving me crazy. Jules
knew her job, but she didn’t know she knew it. She constantly second guessed herself and that was a definite no-no when working for Lila. Every task Lila gave her required Jules coming to see me first and asking my thoughts on the best way to get it done. She’d timidly knock on my door, poke her head inside with her brown eyes wide, and ask, “Do you have a minute?”

It wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I’d told her, “Just see me with any questions.”  I was beginning to wonder how she got hired in the first place. How did she make it through the interview process with such low confidence? Lila would have eaten her alive. Then Myra informed me that Jules was related by marriage to Hampton Lloyd. Who needs self-confidence on the job when your uncle-in-law owns the place? Still, it was frustrating because she had the chops. She just needed to focus and believe in herself. She definitely needed to stop running to my office every damn time Lila tossed her a to-do list, her calendar, and instructions to “make it work.”

One afternoon I tried to be polite yet firm in letting Jules know that I’d help her—but only briefly, as I had my own work to complete. She vigorously nodded her head; her brown ponytail bobbed up and down, and an appreciative look spread across her round face.

“Oh, I understand. I’m sorry. It’s just I don’t want to mess up.”

I spent twenty minutes explaining how to run a performance analysis on a major client’s social platforms. “You make it all look so easy,” she told me once we were done.

“It’s okay. You’ll get it, too.”

“I hope so,” she said, rising to leave. “And thanks again for doing this. I know you’re busy. It’s just that Lila is always talking about how great you were. I figured I’d rather check with you first before making a mistake.”

“Give it time.”

She thanked me again before leaving. It was nice to hear that Lila thought so highly of me in my old role because my new one was intimidating as hell. Though I still reported to Lila, it was in a completely different capacity. I was one of several project managers on a team that reported to her.

I was relatively new, which meant I didn’t have any big clients; I mainly had small companies with small advertising budgets. That didn’t matter. They were mine, and when they wanted to launch new social media promotions they called me. It was my job to oversee everything involved in their projects. I developed concepts, assigned tasks to team members, and then managed the whole project to make sure that the client was happy and, above all, that it came in under budget. My current project was to develop a Facebook campaign for a car dealership that operated out of the tri-state area. My team had a meeting scheduled later that day during which I’d have to tell one of them that their first concept, in a word, sucked. That was my least favorite part of the job.

My cell phone vibrated against my office desk. I checked the display screen to find Patrick had sent a text message.

Pizza OK? We have enough cooking 2 do next week. xoxo

Fine with me. xoxo

He was right; we did have more than enough cooking to do next week as it was Thanksgiving and we were having two of them. Yes, two Thanksgivings, and they were Patrick’s idea. We hadn’t told many people that our relationship had changed. I’d told Crystal, and Patrick had confided in Paul, but that was about it. We were living in this cocoon, in our own little world. That world was about to be infiltrated by Thanksgiving around the corner and my mother’s visit looming. She’d long since gotten over her reservations about me living with a man. She understood that when Patrick moved in it had been a necessity; I needed a roommate and I couldn’t afford the rent alone. After a while she was just relieved that there was a man in the apartment.

However, she was not aware that her only child was now romantically involved with this man. Patrick and I had a decision to make. If we behaved as if nothing was going on we’d essentially be lying, and we didn’t feel as if we had any reason to lie or hide what was happening between us. Keeping our relationship status low-key stemmed from wanting to keep the newness and excitement all to ourselves, not because we were ashamed. All the same, I was not looking forward to my mother’s reaction.

I couldn’t be certain how my mother would react to my dating a white man. I knew that she’d complained for many years about the racist treatment she’d sometimes received from white men on the police force, but I never heard her attack white people as a race—rather the specific, narrow-minded, people she’d encountered throughout her career. I was also unsure of how she’d take the news that I was romantically involved with a man I was living with but not married to. My mother could be terribly old-fashioned and even frowned upon Lawrence sleeping over. She firmly believed in not giving away the milk for free. Well, I thought, she’d at least be happy to know Patrick hadn’t had any of my milk yet. Not a single drop.

Once we made the decision to tell our family and friends about our relationship, Patrick thought it would be nice if we had a pre-Thanksgiving dinner with them. My mother would already be here and staying with us, and I decided to invite Uncle Troy, Crystal, Brianna, and Myra. Patrick invited Paul and his boyfriend Derrick. He wanted to invite Max, but they still weren’t speaking after their fight on Halloween. I was hoping they’d work things out before then so that Max could come. I knew how much his two friends meant to him and any time we discussed the rift between them I could see how much it pained Patrick. With our dinner party the day before Thanksgiving and just a week away, it didn’t look like things would be ironed out between the friends in time.

Then Patrick dropped a bombshell.

“I want you to come home with me on Thanksgiving Day. Come have dinner with my family.” Sensing my hesitation, he pressed on. “I just thought since we’d be spending Wednesday here with your Mom it would be nice if we could spend Thursday with my family. I mean, I know when I tell my parents about us they’re going to want to meet you.”

I couldn’t say no. The plan was to have lunch with Myra that afternoon and tell her, and then call my mother later that evening and share the news again. Thinking about both conversations gave me a nervous stomach, and thinking about meeting Patrick’s family for the first time made it even worse. We hadn’t discussed race. Not once. I have no idea why he never brought it up and I wasn’t complaining. Sure, I had tons of questions, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready for the answers. Had he ever dated a black girl before? How would his family feel? With us taking such a big step in the next week I had a feeling I’d find out the answers to those questions soon enough no matter how uncomfortable the conversations might be.

For the second time that day my cell phone vibrated, startling me out of my thoughts. It was Crystal.

“Hey, girl. Guess what I’m doing today…”

“Chloe…”

I knew right away she was crying.

“Crystal, what’s wrong?” 

“It’s Daddy. He’s in the hospital.”

Chapter Two

Grateful, Part 2

Patrick

Cat Willow would not stop apologizing. Cat was my agent
, and she’d been pretty pissed off when I showed up to my second
Shining Moments
audition with a busted lip and blue bruises.

“I mean, not for nothing Patrick, but that face is what soap magazines are made of.” She’d realized the implication of her words and quickly continued. “Of course, I wouldn’t have signed you from class if I didn’t recognize your great talent, and that’s precisely why you’ll get the job. But baby, this does not help.” She wiggled her fingers in front of my face.

I had apologized several times, but what was done was done. If I could have gone back and done things differently, I would have. And not just because of the audition, but because of what it meant for my friendship with Max.

Cat wasn’t interested in any of that. She’d been a successful actress in the seventies: Broadway, films, and a very popular variety television show that ran through most of the eighties. She was now an influential agent in the industry and had been for almost twenty years when we met at the acting school I’d attended. Cat was good friends with the owner and every so often she’d visit to mentor, offer advice and, on occasion, sign an actor or two. I was one of the fortunate few.

One of the great things about Cat was that she worked to develop her clients. She made money when we worked, but she wouldn’t send you out on just any audition. Cat had a knack for knowing what her clients needed and what their capabilities were. I was under no delusions when she signed me that I’d immediately star in the next blockbuster film, and Cat was quick to crush any unrealistic fantasies.

“You will do lots of theatre, local plays; commercials will be your bread and butter. Everyone has to start somewhere, but the most important thing is that you’ll be working.”  And she was right, I had. A few small commercials had been a start and helped pay the bills. Another benefit to having Cat as an agent was her encouragement that her clients continued training.

Always strive to perfect your craft.

It was more than a philosophy. It was on a plaque on her office wall. I stared at the plaque while biting the inside of mouth so as not to laugh out loud. It was weeks after that second audition and Cat had just received a phone call from the casting director of
Shining Moments
. They were considering me and another actor for the part. They were very impressed with my second audition. I had a feeling they would be. The scene that day had called for the good boy turned bad to have an intense conversation with a police officer who suspected him of illegal activities. I tapped into my frustrations with the Max situation and delivered a great performance.

I watched Cat pace track marks in her office’s carpet. Her blonde hair was cut short, protruding from her head in small spikes in various directions. It looked like a crown and made her look regal. Cat was a tall woman, taller than me at six feet four inches. She was wearing her trademark wire-framed glasses, a coal black pantsuit, and a huge grin. 

“This is so wonderful, Patrick. And to think I doubted you.”

Catching my grin from across the office she added, “Though I could have been right. Lucky for both of us, I wasn’t. A friend of mine over at Moments said that the casting people were very excited over your audition and the bruises only made you more believable.”

Cat seemed downright giddy. In fact, a few times she cast glances at my face to display a bit of regret that it had healed so nicely.  Before she could suggest I find myself in another fight or worse, take a swing at me, I decided to move along.

“So, what next?” 

She took a seat behind her desk facing me and beamed a smile in my direction across the desk’s massive oak top. Its brightness rivaled the shine coming from her office’s fiftieth floor window. It was easy to see why she had graced the cover of many magazines in her day.

“Well, you’re up against Jaden Moore, who was previously on
Channels of Love.
He was popular—had a nice-sized fan base—but he’s more looks than substance. You have both, and my sources tell me they’re really hoping to go deeper with this character. It’s going to require some serious acting chops, and that’s where I think you have him beat.” Her confidence in me was inspiring, and more than any time before I wanted Cat to be right. “Right after Thanksgiving they want you to come in and do some taped readings, and then they’ll make their choice. You’re ready, Patrick. I have a good feeling about this.”

Those good feelings carried me the rest of the day. I wanted to call Chloe upon leaving Cat’s office to tell her the good news, but I’d bothered her enough that day. There were two text messages with our usual mushiness. From the outside looking in I could see how Chloe and I might seem sickeningly sweet, but being caught up in it felt damn good. There was something very comforting in exchanging messages about what we’d have for dinner later that night or what movie we’d rent.

The plan to head back to the gym for my last training session of the day was changed when my client called to cancel. I didn’t mind because that allowed me time to straighten up at home and order dinner before Chloe arrived. She’d been working hard at her new position and was still trying to help her replacement. I knew she’d appreciate the gesture. We’d avoided labels, but sharing the upcoming holiday together with our families was a big step and it didn’t escape me how odd it was that we were taking that step before another one: having sex.